DUNE-A False Haderach-Ch.7b (Patreon)
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Chapter 7b
~At the start of DUNE~
DUKE LETO ATREIDES
Arrakis was a mess, and the desert planet was harsh, yet that was not the only tribulation they faced. House Harkonen had left landmines everywhere before leaving, hampering their ability to mine Spice or settle down quickly.
Systems had been broken, with vital components missing, and other equipment was either lacking or had been tampered with. His own men were on edge, for Arrakis was not their home.
Kaladan had been home, with its seas, dreary weather, and ample water. Arrakis was not home, and even though they were not as politically apt as him, even they could feel the impending danger that lingered in the air.
The attack on Paul had just made things more difficult, and though they had caught the spy, he had managed to kill himself so they could interrogate him for further information. Hawat had run another sweep of the dwelling, using every kind of sensor for any more such surprises, though it had come up blank.
Everyone was on edge, including Jessica who had been growing more and more distraught with every passing day, not that he was not worried as well. It was as if an invisible noose had been placed around their necks and was tightening by the day.
Though hopefully today would be the day, they would begin pushing against the impending doom that approached them, for Duncan Idaho was back and from the smile and glint in his eyes Leto knew that there was hope.
“They are there, spread across hundreds of sietches burrowing into the ground. Ten thousand to a group,” he began with a smile, and his mind quickly ran the numbers.
“That would put the number at around millions, much more than what teh Harkonens suspected even after they revised their numbers later,” he reasoned out as him and Gurney exchanged a glance with him.
“Yes, and they are monsters, all of them. They fight like demons and move through the deserts of Arrakis with extreme ease. I have fought against Sardukar as well, and I can confidently say that the Fremen are at least their equal if not better than them,” Duncan was sincere in his praise. Leto knew no fighter better than the man and was inclined to believe his assessment.
“Do they have a leader, one who may speak for all Fremen?” he questioned.
“There is no leader as such, each sietch is led by one leader called a Naib, though they are tribal there is a sense of community among them, in the sense that every Fremen consider themselves a part of a singular nation,” Duncan spoke, that complicated some things, he would have liked talking to a single man.
“What of the Kazab?” Gurney questioned from the side. And Leto nodded as Duncan frowned.
“Kazab is an anomaly. He belongs to no sietch per say but has men in nearly every one. He is somewhat of a freedom fighter and provides support to Fremenwhenever they need it in the form of medicine, supplies, anything that they may need, or through rescue, and even information about impending attacks. Reactions around him are mixed, though he is well-liked by many of the Fremen except those that are too old. He has considerable influence and could either be a very strong ally or a very destructive and troublesome enemy,” Duncan’s report was interesting.
“But wasn’t long-distance communication over Arrakis nearly impossible because of the frequent storms? I thought they disrupted the electromagnetic wave transmission,” Paul pointed out, and he had missed this, he had even forgotten that he was there.
He had been trained in the Bene Gesserit ways and much like his mother could lessen his presence.
“It does, and that is what makes him so dangerous. He is a sort of nomad, constantly moving his own group spread all over the place. Yet, he somehow is able to coordinate them well enough and maintain long-distance communications with such precision and accuracy that the Harkonnens failed to capture even a single one of his men in all these years,” Duncan spoke as he reached forward on teh table and picked up some paper and a pen.
“They have a symbol of their own, a sort of a sigil,” he began to draw on the paper. Leto leaned forward, and Gurney stepped forward from the side as well. Duncan drew it and flipped the paper towards them.
“It is a pair of wings drawn over one another, and people from his faction usually have it sewn into the arms or backs of their jackets. He calls it ‘The Wings of Freedom’,” Duncan added as Leto stared at the wings.
And it somewhat reminded him of his own House sigil, and he could see why teh Harkonens would suspect that House Atreides was behind this Kazab. He passed it to Paul who stared at them.
“It resembled the Atreides Eagle,” he voiced out his own thoughts, and Leto nodded.
“It does indeed,” he added as his mind raced.
However, what remained to be seen was whether this attempt at deception on the part of the ‘Kazab’ was deliberate or just a coincidence, even though from what he had learned of the man, he suspected that the deception was deliberate.
“And what of the message he sent, asking for water and those suspensers,” he questioned, and Duncan shrugged.
“I tried to arrange a meeting with him, but his messenger said that if this ‘Kazab’ wished to see you, he would do so on his own terms. And if he doesn’t, then we could scour the whole desert, and we would not be able to find him,” Duncan finished.
“But why would he send the message then?” Gurney questioned.
“I do not know. The man is highly secretive, and as I sad information about him is scarce. Most respect him too much to speak much about him, and others do not wish to destroy their relationship with him and lose the support he provides,” Duncan finished as he looked toward him.
“I am sorry, my lord, but that was all I could uncover about him,” and Leto raised his hand as he waved away the apology.
“You have done well, Duncan. Better than what could be hoped for,” he praised the man.
He had given them a chance and found them an army. Now, bringing them over to his side was up to him. Duncan had done his part. Now, it was up to him to do the rest.
“Bring in the man Duncan came with,” he ordered as Duncan came to stand behind him.
“My lord, he has a knife that he refuses to abandon,” one of the guards replied, and he turned towards Duncan.
“It’s a crysnife, my lord, a ceremonial weapon. He won’t come in without it,” Duncan told him. After a small nod to Gurney, he motioned for the guards to let him through.
“Let him through,” he ordered. Both Gunrney and Idaho were ready for any sign of violence as the visitor entered his office. He was dressed in a stillsuit with a thin brownish cloak over it, his eyes were blue, his hair mottled, and he was tall.
Leto stood up as the man approached them and looked around the room, taking a measure of them before he swallowed and spat on the ground.
THUK!
Gurney was quick to reach for his blade, like the rest of the guards, as he eyed the man surprised before Duncan cut in.
“Stop,” he said firml as he raised his hand as Duncan leaned forward.
“It's a Fremen tradition. They treasure their bodies of water more than anything. This was a sign of respect,” he told him, and Leto nodded as he motioned for Gurney to stand back.
THUK!
Idaho spat on the ground, Leto swallowed his spit and did the same as Duncan spoke from the side.
“Thank you, Stilgar, for the gift of your body’s moisture. We are honored by it and respect it in the spirit in which it was given,” spoke Duncan as the man nodded.
“It is good to see you, Stilgar. I am Leto Atreides, and I have immense respect for your people,” he began as the man’s eyes leveled on him, eyeing him.
“I believe your people and mine both have much that we can offer one another,” he began, and the man shook his head.
“No, no. You are outworlders. You come here, take our Spice, and give nothing in return,” he said with some heat.
“That is true,” Paul added from the side, and Stilgar’s eyes snapped towards his son, and they narrowed suddenly before they snapped between teh two of them.
“That may have been the Harkonnen way, but I wish to do things differently, for I am not them. Ask what you and your people seek, and if it is in my powers, I shall grant it,” he offered, and the man’s eyes narrowed as he began.
“Then do not seek our Sietches. The desert is ours. Mine the Spice as you wish, and then go back to your city. The desert was ours long before you people came here. Leave it to us,” he said, and he nodded.
“The Emperor has given me Arrakis to rule and govern. I cannot promise you that I will not venture into the desert if I am compelled to do so, but I promise you that your sietches shall remain yours and that your people shall not be hunted for as long as I rule over Arrakis,” he assured the man.
He seemed to think about it for a moment before he nodded.
“That is honorable of you,” said the man.
“Though I must speak that if your people attack mine, then I may not be able to keep my promise and may have to venture into your sietches for justice,” he said, and the man’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean by that?” he said, and there was a snarl in his tone.
“I speak of Kazab,” he began, and the man shook his head.
“I do not speak for Kazab. He is his own man now, you shall suffer no harm from my people, that I can promise but nothing more than that,” he said.
‘He is his own man now,’ and the implication behind that was not lost to him. The man knew of Kazab, probably knew of him from before he was the Kazab.
“But isn’t he also a Fremen? Isn’t he one of your people as well?” Paul asked from the side, and he saw how the man’s eyes narrowed onto Paul again. He did not answer immediately before he finally opened his mouth and asked a question of his own.
“Tell me, boy? Do you share blood with the Emperor?” the suddenness of the question surprised him, just as did Paul.
“What?” Paul questioned.
“I ask, are you and the Emperor related?” the man asked once more.
“Why do you ask that?” he questioned, and the man shrugged.
“Just something I found interesting. You may not answer if you wish,” he said. And he made eye contact with Gurney before he decided to make a gamble.
“He does,” he answered and saw the man nod, his eyes narrowing slighlt as he added.
“Me and the Emperor are cousins. He shares the blood through me,” he said, and the man raised a brow.
“That shall be all, now I must lea...”
“Wait,” he cut in, surprising even himself, and the man turned towards him.
“We are to meet a man who says that he may have information on Kazab and offers to arrange a meeting with him,” he said, and Gurney began to frown, for this was not what they had discussed.
But he had a hunch that this could be useful.
The man scoffed.
“He lies. No one can reach the Kazab or meet him if he does not wish for it. The man lies,” he said. He was about to leave when he continued.
“Then why don’t you help us see the truth for ourselves, help us filter the truth from the lies?” he offered, and the man stopped again.
“We would be honored to host you in the meantime and could even offer generous terms for this service,” he offered, and he would. The man Gurney had reached was a smuggler, and he did not trust smugglers.
Even with Jessica, he believed that having Stilgar, a resident Fremen, in the meeting with this smuggler would help them greatly to ascertain teh true value of his information.
“Then I shall stay and see for myself what lies this man sprouts,” he said as he gave him a nod.
“House Atredies welcomes you in its halls,” he said as he turned towards Paul.
“Lead him to the guest quarters,” he said, and Paul nodded as he left with Stilgar.
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Stilgar is here! And so is someone else!